


Anchorless

by mywordsflyup



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, First Kiss, some sad but mostly kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4617879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sometimes she looks at him and it feels like looking into a mirror.</i>
</p><p>After all the bloodshed and all the death, Nathaniel Howe and Edlyn Cousland find to each other. With a little help from a bottle of terrible wine. (Giveaway Prize)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchorless

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prize for [tacitpact](http://tacitpact.tumblr.com) who won 3rd place in my giveaway. Edlyn Cousland belongs to her.

She finds him in the kitchens, like most nights. In the damp grey hours before sunrise, when the Vigil’s Keep belongs to the Howes once more. To the memories of the dead and to Nathaniel who sits by the hearth and drinks his way through his late father’s wine cellar. 

“What are we drinking tonight?” Edlyn slips into her spot on the bench next to him. It has become a ritual of sorts. Two lost souls spending their sleepless nights wandering the keep. Always finding their way to the warmth of the kitchens, eventually. 

“Fereldan red,” he says and she winces. “It miraculously manages to be both watery and sour at the same time.” 

“Lovely.” She takes the offered bottle and watches him as he settles into a more comfortable position. He looks tired, haunted. More nightmares, she guesses. Takes one to know one. Sometimes she looks at him and it feels like looking into a mirror. 

Fatherless, anchorless. Two ships at sea with no land in sight. 

When he gives her a quizzical look, she averts her eyes and takes a quick sip from the bottle. It takes all of her restraint not to spit it out immediately. The stuff is horrendous. 

“I could find you a glass, you know.” 

She shrugs and pushes the bottle back into his hands. It would be the proper thing to do, she thinks as she watches him drink. If the people could see them now. Born to riches and legacy and the expectation of greatness. Sharing a bottle of cheap red, with dirt underneath their fingernails and death singing in their veins. Fate is funny that way.

He is not an arl and she is no teyrna. All the lands and all the titles nothing but dust now, a bitter taste in her mouth that she can’t possibly wash out. But she can try. She reaches for the bottle and takes another drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Nathaniel cocks an eyebrow but ducks his head before she can tell if he is smiling. 

“I don’t think I have ever told you that I am sorry,” she hears herself saying. Words falling out of her mouth, perhaps loosened by the wine. 

Nathaniel looks at her in surprise. “For what?”

“For your father.” 

A few weeks ago, those words would have hit him like a lashing. But now he only smiles his wry smile and runs his fingers through his hair with a deep sigh. “You are not sorry for killing him, Edlyn.” The words are as harsh as his voice is soft and Edlyn cannot help but feel her heart leap at the use of her name. Foolish. 

“No,” she says truthfully, fixing her eyes on the label of the bottle to avoid his gaze. “But I am sorry that you had to suffer because of it.” 

He is quiet for a moment and in the absence of his answer, she can hear the sounds of the castle all around her. The soft creaking of wood, the settling of old masonry, the faint whisper of rain outside. She knows this keep, she realizes. Not quite a home. But something. 

“I don’t regret it,” Nathaniel says, his voice quiet and level. “Not anymore.”

She looks up, unable to hide her surprise. “Really?”

“There are things here that make it worthwhile,” he tries to explain. “Things I never would have known if it weren’t for… everything that happened.” 

“A freezing castle and subpar wine? Truly.” But her glibness sounds more like uncertainty and she focuses on pulling the edge of the soggy label off the bottle. 

His chuckle is dry but honest. “There are other advantages.” He stops as if he has to think about them and she can see him shifting in his seat from the corner of her eye. “I have come to enjoy this life. Being a Warden.” 

“Endless waves of darkspawn? I find it’s an acquired taste.” 

“It’s a purpose.” Another chuckle, but warmer this time. “Maker knows I haven’t had one of those in a while.” 

She looks at him then, a long sideways glance. He is pale, even in the warm light of the fire. His sharp nose, his sharper eyes. She has come to know this face. To trust it. To care for it. And for the first time, the thought does not make stomach twist in fear. Tonight, it is just a thing that is. 

“The company could be worse, I suppose.” She slides the bottle over to him. 

A tentative smile. “Much worse,” he agrees and takes the bottle. His fingers brush against hers, just the smallest of touches but Edlyn can feel the sensation traveling up her arm. 

It is easy after that when the silence settles over them like a heavy blanket of snow. The world made unreal by the early hour and the wine and the aching they both feel. There is nothing but this kitchen, an island of warmth and light. And no one left but them, two ships made from the same wood. Battered by the same storms.

He leans in, slow enough that she could refuse him if she wanted to. She doesn’t. 

It’s just a brush of his lips against hers at first. Soft and careful and so unlike him that she almost laughs. He is respectful, she realizes. Still giving her a way out in case she needs it. Instead, she meets him, leans into him. And when she smiles against the press of his lips, he is bold enough to lay his hand on her hip. 

He tastes of wine and warmth and when she reaches up lace her fingers in his hair, she is surprised to find how soft it is. So much longer than Alistair’s, she thinks. But she pushes the thought away as soon as it wells up. This is not about comparing. This is about Nathaniel and her and them together right here and right now. About his hand on the small of her back and about him pulling her closer and about curling her fingers at the nape of his neck where his hair is the softest.

And his lips on hers and their breaths mingled and the way something deep inside her clenches almost painfully when he makes that sound. Something between wanting and needing.

His hands wander, never lingering for too long like he wants to touch her everywhere. Like he doesn’t know where to hold her first. Her back, her waist, her arms, her hair. And she aches for it, bone-deep and desperate. 

She pulls back, just a little bit, and looks up. His eyes are still closed when he leans his forehead against hers, breathing heavy. 

“Edlyn,” he says, his voice soft and gentler than she has ever heard it. His lips curl around her name with a smile. 

“You wanted to kill me once,” she says because it is true. But the thought seems like a fever dream when his hand is grasping her waist and his other is laced in her hair. When he opens his eyes like that with endless tenderness and no more walls around him. 

“I thought you a monster once.” It is no excuse, no apology. Just the truth. A truth she has already known. 

“And you don’t anymore?” 

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a hint of mischief that makes him look younger somehow. “Evidently not.” 

“Good.” And she pulls him down once more, claiming his lips. Hungrier this time. Making up for lost time and lost love and words she never dared to say out loud. 

Who cares if she is anchorless? Who cares if she is lost at sea? She is not alone and the sea spray on her face tastes sweet and there is always a sunrise on the horizon somewhere. Somehow.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


End file.
